


Get On With It

by blueberrytea



Series: Moments [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, a lil bit steamy, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrytea/pseuds/blueberrytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2. <em>Thomas tried hard to force himself to sleep, knowing it would make the time pass faster, but after two hours he’d still had no luck. He lay on the floor in one of the upper rooms, on top of a thick blanket, several other Gladers crammed in there with him, almost body to body. The bed had gone to Newt.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Get On With It

2.  _Thomas tried hard to force himself to sleep, knowing it would make the time pass faster, but after two hours he’d still had no luck. He lay on the floor in one of the upper rooms, on top of a thick blanket, several other Gladers crammed in there with him, almost body to body. The bed had gone to Newt._

“Can’t sleep?” A whisper sounded from the bed next to him as Thomas shifted uncomfortably on the floor.

"No,” Thomas admitted, half to himself. “How could I?”

Newt gave a quiet chuckle.

“Look at all these other shanks. Right logs, they are. Dunno how they’re doin’ it.”

A breath or two passed. Thomas didn't realize he was holding his until Newt spoke again.

"Tommy?” His voice was gruff, making Thomas's lungs stutter.

"What?”

“C'mere a second.”

“What is it?”

“Just...c’mere.”

Thomas stood precariously, hoisting himself up onto the elevated surface. It was difficult to see anything with darkness shrouding the room, but after a long moment Thomas started at a hand sneaking slowly onto his. It took another moment for Thomas to register that the hand was Newt's, that Newt was  _touching him_ _,_  but when that fact was concrete in his mind another sensation was added to the growing array.

Breath. Breath on his face. He could hear Newt breathing, hear nerves in the way Newt swallowed as he drew closer.

Newt murmured, "Can I?"

An unexpected shock shot straight to Thomas's groin.

Without a single thought, he brushed his lips against Newt's. Newt jumped, breathing in sharply through his nose, but then met his lips again, pressing his palm to Thomas's jaw. Thomas fumbled blindly for Newt's hips, his mouth parting Newt's and then crushing fiercely against it. Newt's tongue flicked against Thomas's expertly, and Thomas's stomach clenched when his bottom lip was trapped between the other boy's teeth.

"Wow," Thomas croaked as quietly as he could, words sandwiched between heated kisses. "I didn't know you could...um..." He trailed off as a puff of air met his chin, the byproduct of Newt's smirk.

"Well, what's a bloke to do? Just because there aren't any girls around doesn't mean I haven't gotten some."

A coldness passed through Thomas's chest and suddenly he felt incredibly inexperienced compared to the boy in front of him. He contemplated telling Newt that they should stop but when Newt slid rough hands up Thomas's shirt, well...he figured that would be a crime.

Instead he welcomed another attack on his mouth, curling his hands into Newt's hair. Newt lowered himself onto his back, dragging Thomas with him. Thomas shivered when their bodies aligned and the savored sharp huff from Newt.

The shock had returned, doubled in intensity and racing all throughout Thomas's body. Hands grasped needily at him while Thomas flicked his tongue into the corresponding mouth, shivers of obscenity sliding down his spine. Possessed by lust for this new Newt, this intimate, in-control Newt, Thomas couldn't resist the urge to roll his hips downward, hard and shaking and full of _heat_ _\--_

Newt gave a high-pitched moan, drawing back to clamp a hand over his mouth. Their bodies stilled, alert for the stirring of other boys. It seemed as if no one had heard until a voice came up from the dark.

“Newt?”

It was Minho, his voice thick and laced with sleep. Thomas looked his direction and, horrified, realized that the boy was propped up on one elbow, craning his neck to make out the figures on the bed.

“Wait, is that...?” He tilted his head at Thomas, who was, at the moment, suspended over Newt.

“You’re dreaming," Newt hissed. "Go back to sleep.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the rustle of a blanket as Minho laid back down and turned away.

"I’d better be," he muttered. "Ya crazy shanks.” And then he was silent.

Thomas started as a hand trailed a hand down his chest, traveling on to meet the swell over Thomas's groin.

Thomas could almost feel him smile as he said the words.

"Get on with it, then."


End file.
